Sensitive
by JuneGilbertVivianRaeven
Summary: More Stan Twins brother fluff from me. Having six sensitive appendages on your hand can be a real disadvantage when you've got a nasty case of absent-minded-professor syndrome. Good thing Stanford's twin is there to look after him...


Sensitive

I was just getting out after a tour, planning to go count the intake from the latest batch of rubes, when I heard a door shut and a streak of poorly concealed swearing coming from somewhere near the entrance to the gift shop. Good thing Mabel and Dipper were out in the back with Soos doing something with hula-hoops, or else the twins' mother would be having an unpleasant talk with me when they later repeated the words. Recognizing the voice, I looked over towards the entrance and beheld my brother with most of the fingers of his left hand in his mouth starting with the extra digit, looking very irritated.

"… Do I want to know what happened, Stanford?"

Ford's hands had always been sensitive. Especially that extra digit, for some reason. Whenever he shut his hand in a door (happened more often than I care to remember), something bit his fingers or he burnt them on the stove or something, he'd usually hurt worse than normal people. I both recognized the face he was pulling and the instinctive urge to stick hurt fingers in your mouth. He took the fingers out just long enough to speak.

"No, no you don't want to know…"

"… Did something bite you or did you just shut your fingers in the door by accident again?"

Ford scowled, "I SAID you don't want to know. And you call ME nosy."

"S'not nosy if I'm the one carrying your sick ass to bed and looking through those damn journals for an antidote later if a venomous something bit you. C'mere."

I moved over, fully intending to look after his hands. Even if he'd been being a pain in the butt as of lately, and even if dumb things were said, he was still blood. Not even Mr. Einstein Number Two here could change that. Besides the fact that I still worried over the nerd.

He pulled a sour, "don't-mess-with-me" face, but the effect was ruined with the fingers in his mouth. He just ended up looking like a grumpy grey haired kid who was about to be set down for naptime.

"I SAID you don't want to know, it's nothing, really-"

I just snorted, stashing away the cash in my suit pocket in favor of grabbing Sixer's hand. I tugged it out of his mouth unceremoniously- with a yelp of protest from Ford- and examined the digits. Yup. He'd gotten them stuck in the doorframe again, and the sixth finger got the brunt of the door. I could already see the bruising starting.

"Sheesh, Sixer, this looks nasty… At least nothing bit you. Okay, come on, over to the ice chest."

The nerd was oddly quiet after that statement, not resisting as I yanked him over to the ice container I kept for the rubes. As I opened it up, I was a bit relieved to see it was for once, well stocked. One less embarrassment in front of Ford to add to the long list. I grabbed a plastic bag, filled it with some ice chunks, and pressed it to the worst of the bruised fingers. Ford hissed, the ice hurting at first application and making him twitchy.

"Stop that, you know this helps bruised fingers so suck it up. Now, cloth… here we go."

I grabbed the nearest dishtowel that someone- probably Mabel- had spilled glitter glue on and worked it around the plastic bag so Ford could hold the icepack on the bruised hand without his other hand freezing.

"Now hold it there til I can get back with the painkiller, okay? Hopefully it helps. Sit tight."

I headed back towards the private bathroom, aware of Sixer watching the back of my head like a hawk. He still hadn't said a word after my old nickname for him had slipped out easy as breathing when he was hurt, just… watched me with those dark brown eyes. Those eyes that used to be a mirror of mine. Or maybe it was the other way around, me being his mirror. I wasn't very sure either way.

I grabbed the painkiller bottle from the locked medicine cabinet. The lock was because I had kids around that I didn't want messing with the few prescription medications I had to deal with, and I kept it locked for exactly that reason. When I realized Dipper and Mabel were coming, I hadn't entirely baby-proofed the place since they were twelve, but I did think THAT far ahead at least… They didn't need to know that I took medication for this and that in the first place, anyway. I hated paying for the pills but if I didn't take them on a regular basis, my health- an iffy thing at best- would most definitely take a turn for the worse. As it turned out, looking out for myself was part and parcel of looking after those kids.

Taking a deep breath- feeling nervous, don't know why- I turned to go back into the gift shop from the private bathroom. Didn't pass anyone on my way back, though I stopped by the kitchen to grab a glass of water for him to take the pills with.

I found Stanford sitting on the chair Wendy generally used when things got slow at the register. He was just looking around, peering around the shop with a familiar insatiable curiosity. It was an oddly peaceable scene to see him in. Though, now that I think about it, this was the most relaxed I had seen Sixer since he came out of the portal. He was just sitting in the sunshine that drifted in from a nearby window, looking out every now and again.

I remembered what I came in for when I noticed the ice pack on his left hand. Heading over, I popped the bottle on his head.

"Here it is."

Stanford made a surprised, disgruntled noise and used his good hand to catch the bottle before it fell off his head. He shot me a look, but apparently decided to let it be. Stanford checked the directions and swallowing the minimum recommended amount with a gulp from the glass I handed over a moment later. He put the glass down on the counter and heaved a quiet sigh. I was feeling a bit awkward at that point.

"… Why'd you pull that name out?"

Ford was looking at me sideways, a little suspicious. I stuck my hands in my pockets to hide their shaking. Here we go.

"What name? Yours? Gimme a little context here, Six- Stanford."

"The one you almost said. Sixer."

He was scowling now, not a good sign. Stanford didn't make a move to stand up though.

"… I can't use it anymore, is that it?"

That came out more defensive than I meant it to. HOT Belgian waffles... I straightened my tie that was already straight, then fidgeted with my fez again.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Stanford was considering his words and taking his sweet time about answering, which only increased the anxiety clawing at me.

"No. You're…allowed to use it… It just… surprised me."

I let out a short sigh. Ford's fingers weren't the only sensitive thing about him, apparently.

"Why?"

"…You haven't used it in years. To hear it again was surprising, Stanley."

"Fair enough."

Instead of just standing there awkwardly, I grabbed the pill bottle and water glass with the intention of returning them both to where they belonged. Sixer's words stopped me cold just as I turned around.

"Thank you, Stanley."

"…What for?" I was wary of accepting it. What pod person had grabbed hold of my stubborn-ass brother to make him tell me thank you? What was he even thanking me for?

"For the ice and the painkillers and the… for everything."

I was a bit glad he couldn't see the smile that twitched over my lips at the awkward sounding profession. Turns out I'm still attuned to him enough to notice when he meant more than he said.

"Anytime, Sixer. Anytime."

I meant that. For all he'd been an ass after I saved his behind from the portal, I'd do it all again anyway. Just knowing he was under the same sky as me was… really nice. Even if we were at odds, even if he was still upset with me over something he really should have let go of thirty years or so ago, Stanford- Sixer- was still my brother.

I wouldn't trade the oversensitive nerd for anything.

* * *

 **Again, Stan Twins brotherfluff. I do not know what is WITH me lately ^-^; I want fluff and nobody's writing it quick enough for me so I write my own... I love these two. I also have a headcanon that Stanford is in reality has issues with communication, while Stanley is much more versed in communicating with people.  
**

 **Love, hugs, and (virtual) cookies to those who review!**

 **-June**

 **EDIT: 9/16/15- I fixed some errors and tweaked the formatting. No real changes to the storyline. Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**


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